Author: I was walking home from school one day, and it just finished raining. A part of the road was flooded and to get to the other side, I had to jump over this deep puddle. It was wide, and I was somehow scared that I might fall. But I knew that if I didn’t jump, I wouldn’t be able to move forward. So I did. I didn’t completely jump over the puddle. My left shoe got wet, and it ran into my sock. But that was okay. I got through.

Okay, don’t mind the blabbers. That was the exact moment when this plot got through me.

Anyway, going back. I wrote this story because I wanted to write something sad. I like sad things. Flowers in February would be RyoSaku up until the end – that I will assure you. I am deeply grateful to the people who followed me up until today. Thank you. I hope you don’t get tired of doing so.

Enjoy!

Summary: As Echizen Ryoma passes through the pain of saying goodbye, he makes a lot of discoveries about pain, denial, tears and probably, love. /RyoxSaku/

All disclaimers apply.

Flowers in February

A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us.

To live is to be slowly born.

- Antoine de St. Exupery

PROLOGUE

“It’s this time of the year again…”

A young boy knelt in front of a grave. The breeze was cold that day, and he could feel it burning against his cheek. It felt good for him, though. A strange wave of comfort enveloped him, just like what happened every time he was there.

He had done everything he was supposed to do – light up the incense sticks, leave the rice cakes he made that morning, replace the flowers… He looked at the grave in contentment and reached out to touch the epitaph written on the cold stone. He traced the letters slowly, taking in every word.

it clung to the branches

and gave color to spring

but one day, the cherry blossom

had let go

Whenever he read those words, he felt like crying. But he didn’t. He shouldn’t. It would be the last thing she would’ve wanted to see.

He looked away, instead, and sat quietly on the ground. Pulling down the white cap on his head, he smiled and closed his eyes. The cap… it made him stronger, somehow. It was strange, actually, but to him, that was trivial.

He drifted slowly to sleep.

The man he was waiting for… he was coming soon, wasn’t he?

He promised.

CHAPTER ONE

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE REACHED TOKYO AIRPORT AT EXACTLY 11:00 IN THE EVENING. THANK YOU FOR FLYING WITH US AND ENJOY YOUR STAY!”

Echizen Ryoma groaned as he straightened up in his seat. He had been asleep for the whole duration of the flight and he felt dizzy. Carefully, he rubbed his eyes as he tried to get his vision used to his surroundings again. The other people beside him had already left the plane, and he took that as a chance to stretch his limbs.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He looked at the stewardess standing next to his chair and pulled down his cap. As soon as their eyes met, the woman blushed and began moving her hands nervously. He waved her dismissively away. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He stood up and began taking his hand-carry bag from the top compartment.

“Ano, I’m sorry for being nosy, but… are you Echizen Ryoma?”

Ryoma looked over his shoulder after he brought down his bag onto his seat. “Yeah,” he replied, shrugging a bit. “I’m just getting my things. I’ll be going off soon.” He took his passport from his bag and placed it in his pocket. He turned his back onto her again and began stuffing his blanket into his bag.

“AHH! E-TO! Echizen-san! It’s really, really you!” Ryoma turned around at the sudden change of tone. He suddenly took a step back as he saw the enthusiastic look on the girl’s face. “Can I have your autograph? Everyone here watched your matches in the American Tennis Exhibition and you were amazing!! Kya, eto… eto… I know I have a piece of paper somewhere…”

As the woman turned around to get a piece of paper from the stroller behind her, Ryoma took it as a chance to slip quietly away.

Sorry, stewardess-san. I have more important things to do.

---

Ryoma pulled his bags with him as he entered the main lobby of the airport. He was feeling nervous and nauseous; he was sure to puke anytime soon. He could feel it. Still, the last thing he wanted was to create a scene in front of so many people…

“Echizen! Echizen Ryoma! Over here!”

He looked up at the sound of the familiar voice, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved. It was Ryuzaki Sumire – his old junior high tennis coach. He smirked as he found her standing before him and grinning from ear to ear. Temporarily, his ‘attack’ was forgotten.

“Never thought you’d come,” Sumire said, the happiness evident in her voice. Had she expected him to do otherwise? She had her hands on her waist and was looking down onto Ryoma. “Still couldn’t believe you said ‘yes’ over the phone, actually. More than what I expected from Nanjiroh’s son.”

Ryoma shrugged and asked, “How much longer?” He stared into her eyes firmly.

The excitement disappeared at once in his coach’s eyes and a weak smile replaced her grin. “Why don’t we talk about it in the cab? It’s waiting outside. And we’ve had your room prepared for you, all nice and set. It’s been a long flight, hasn’t it?”

“Okay,” Ryoma replied, turning his back onto her and pulling his things towards the direction of the exit. “But don’t avoid the subject after that anymore, sensei.”

Sumire looked after him, amused. “Boy, you sure haven’t changed, have you?” she said to herself before jogging up to follow her old student.

---

Ryoma cradled his face in his hand. He was staring outside the tinted windows of the car. She has said nothing since they left the airport and he was getting restless. He needed to confirm everything he heard on the phone, or else, his coming back would have been for no reason at all.

After all, what she had told him was pretty far-fetched…

Sumire cleared her throat, and it caught Ryoma’s attention. He leaned back onto his seat and looked ahead of him. “Why did you call me here, sensei?” he asked, his voice even. “The thing you told me over the phone… is it really true?”

He turned to look at her and saw that her eyes were getting watery. He looked away at once; he couldn’t bear the sight of crying old ladies. He felt like he needed to comfort them, and Ryoma wasn’t in the right mood.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice. Very unlike the Sumire who used to yell at him for getting to their tournaments late. He wasn’t used to this. Everything was feeling foreign. He wanted it to stop. “I’ve had her check up a few days ago, and the doctor confirmed it. He said that---“

“How much longer?” he said, cutting her off. He didn’t need to hear the details. At least, not now. Those small things could wait. What he wanted to know was how much time she had left for her, and how much long Ryoma needed to stay.

Sumire took a deep breath. “Two months. That’s the most they could estimate. It could be earlier. They don’t know. They don’t know a thing about it.” She covered her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do. I’m just an old lady. I couldn’t… it’s been sudden… I’m the only one she has and… Oh dear God, don’t leave her, Ryoma.”

Ryoma looked away as he heard his teacher’s soft sobs behind him. Instead, he focused on the lights outside the car.

They were more interesting.

---

“Just take that seat over there,” Sumire said, pointing towards the dining table in the kitchen. “You can take your things up after you’ve had some hot chocolate. Afterwards, I’ll show you your room and you can settle down. Do you need anything else?”

“No, thanks.” Ryoma sat down as he watched Sumire working in the sink. He had never seen her this grandmotherly. It scared him a bit, how much she had changed since he was last around her.

“By the way,” she began, as she finished and went over to set the steaming cups in front of them. “Your recent match was televised in the Tokyo Big Screen. Everyone was cheering for you, kid. You should’ve heard it. It was an uproar.” She winked as she took a sip out of the cup. “If you lost, you would’ve been mauled here, you know.”

“Okay,” he replied shortly, taking the cup and drinking quietly. He knew about that. Pictures, flowers, letters… their mailbox had been filled with so many things that it was impossible not to know.

“You’ve really gotten better, you know that? Even Tezuka… boy, you should’ve seen that guy. He’s proud of you, he really is. And the others, too. They were in front seats.” She paused and stared at Ryoma kindly. He looked away. He couldn’t bear seeing her face that way. He felt guilty. “Sakuno… taped all of them. All your matches. She’s been watching you even after you left.”

Ryoma thought about this for a while, about the girl he said goodbye to two years ago, when he decided to go back to America. He didn’t really say goodbye for a special reason… she was just there, and it was rude to ignore her.

“… it’s not like I asked her to.” Ryoma blew the steam away from his cup. He didn’t like where their conversation was heading. He didn’t need this now. Not at 2 AM.

Sumire laughed. “You haven’t really changed.”

“So what if I didn’t,” Ryoma muttered, getting annoyed. He didn’t come back to talk about anything unimportant. Why did he even come back in the first place? If he stayed, he would’ve been playing another match with Kevin. He’d win again, but at least it would be better than sitting with your former coach, drinking hot chocolate…

“Why did you leave?” His head shot up at the question. Sumire wasn’t looking at him, and was staring into her cup. “Why did you leave? You could’ve gotten into any high school you wanted. And you had your family and friends over here…”

“I wanted to become stronger.”

“But…”

“Sensei,” Ryoma said, cutting her off and standing up. “I want to sleep now.”

Sumire nodded slowly and stood up, as well. “I understand.” She began to clear up the table quietly, and Ryoma walked over to his bags.

Really, can’t she see that he was tired?

And he was confused, much, much confused than she was?

---

Ryoma woke up to the smell of pancakes and the sight of an unfamiliar room. He could hear music coming from the other room, and he gripped his pillow tight, not wanting to get out of the bed. He wasn’t asleep anymore – he just didn’t feel like standing up and starting the day.

If I could fall, into the sky

Do you think time

Would pass me---

“Shit!” Ryoma exclaimed, sitting up at the sound of the foreign ring tone. He grabbed his vibrating phone on the desk. “Stupid Kevin! I told him not to touch my things!” he growled to himself. He flipped it open and brought the receiver to his ear.

“YOOOOO! HOW YA DOING THERE? HOWZABOUT YOUR GIRLFR---”

Ryoma quickly brought the phone away from his ear. He could still hear the person on the other line rumbling over and over in a loud voice and in English. Closing his eyes in irritation, he brought the phone back to his face and said in a measured voice, “Oyaji. I’m here at sensei’s. If you want to talk, then talk to her. Good bye.” And with that, he ended the call.

And I have to change the ring tone, too, he noted as he sat down on the bed. When he finished, he finally got the chance to collect himself. He brought his phone down and stood up, stretching a bit. Glancing at the clock, he noted that he woke up too early. It was still 6 in the morning.

Impressive, he thought to himself, for someone who slept so late. He grabbed a towel hanging on a nearby chair, and went directly to the shower.

He walked out of the room, scratching the back of his already messy hair and yawning widely. He reached the first corner of the second floor when he realized that he didn’t know where the bathroom was. He was lost.

“Great.”

He brought down his hands and let himself fall onto the floor. Why am I here in the first place? he thought in annoyance. I want to go home. I want to go back. The last place I want to be is here. He threw his towel down the stairs in a fit of frustration and scowled to himself, pulling his knees closer and placing his arms around them. He didn’t care if he acted like a kid – he was one, after all, and it was unfair how he was forced into doing something he didn’t want to do.

It’s not like they told you to. You were the one who said you’ll come.

“AUGH!” Ryoma groaned, messing up his hair further. I’m going to waste my two months here. I’m really going to---

“Ryoma… kun?”

Ryoma looked up and his eyes widened as they met a pair of auburn ones looking down onto his. He knew that voice from before. For some reason, he recognized it as soon as he heard it. He couldn’t stand up from the surprise.

It was Sakuno. Ryuzaki Sakuno.

He cleared his throat and stood up. He was still in his boxer shorts and undershirt – whatever possessed him to do that, anyway? He was in the house of an old lady and a girl! He shouldn’t run around in his underwear! Suddenly, he felt very naked, but he decided to just play it cool. Who cared if she saw his underwear, anyway?

“Sorry for intruding,” he muttered, bowing slightly. He tried to walk past her and hide himself in his room. He didn’t care if she saw his underwear or whatever. Who was she to make him worry about something so trivial? She was just some person he went to junior high with.

“A-ano!” He turned around to look at her, and for the first time, he managed to get a good look at her.

And he was disappointed at what he saw.

There was a little part of Ryoma that was hoping for a change. Something like Sakuno being more shapely or Sakuno being thinner than she usually was. Maybe he could fall in love with her, like what he watched in those American dramas or maybe he could have some weird realization that he was her hero or something. But nothing. She didn’t change. Only got a little bit taller, but that was about it.

Same old. Same old.

“Yeah?” Ryoma asked, finally getting over his surprise.

Sakuno bowed low, and her long braids fell in front of her. She pushed his towel into his chest. “You dropped this. And, um, the bathroom’s the room just under the stairs.” She ran across the room, only after Ryoma had caught a glimpse of a familiar redness on her face.

---

“This is very much like a reunion, ne?”

Ryoma glared at Sumire from under his bangs as the old lady happily put syrup on her pancakes.

“I’m no good at cooking, kids, but I hope you’ll like the Western style breakfast I made!”

Like hell I would, Ryoma thought bitterly as he stabbed one side of his pancakes with a fork. He munched on the soft food quietly as he silently blamed Sumire for everything. He had waken up to a bad morning, and Sakuno had been no help at all. Don’t tell me that I’d spend two more months here.

“But oba-chan, I told you… I can prepare the food on my own,” Sakuno said guiltily, as her grandmother tended to her. She was pouring her a large glass of orange juice. “I don’t really mind… and I woke up early to make breakfast, too!”

“Nonsense, Sakuno! I’m the adult here, and I want to work around the house. You don’t want me feeling useless here, do you?” Sumire asked, winking.

Oh please, Ryoma thought, rolling his eyes as he took a sip from his orange juice.

Sumire took her own place at the table and folded her hands on her lap. “While you two eat, I’d like to talk about what Ryoma wanted to know last night.”

Ryoma almost blew out his food as Sumire’s eyes rested on him. He sat deeper onto the chair, and sullenly took another bite from the pancake. There was no way he’d believe her now. Not after seeing Sakuno. All alive and well. Who was she kidding? “It’s okay, sensei. I’m not interested anymore,” he said quietly.

“About what?” Sakuno piped up, her lower face covered in pancake syrup. Ryoma inwardly groaned again. Was she really in his age bracket? She was almost sixteen, yet she acted so childish. If she thought that this act would suddenly lure Ryoma in then…

“They called it the Butterfly Syndrome.”

“How pretty!” Sakuno exclaimed. She had forgotten her food altogether and her full attention was on Sumire. Ryoma raised an eyebrow at Sumire, and she shook her head. So, this is the first time she’s hearing this, he thought, glancing at Sakuno’s excited face. He closed his eyes.

“You see… Sakuno-chan… remember exactly a week ago? I took you to the hospital, didn’t I? And you had your check-ups?” Ryoma could feel one of them gripping the table cloth, probably Sumire. He tightened his eyes closer. He did not want to witness this.

“Yes!” Sakuno replied happily. “Sensei told me I was healthy, and he said it was good that I was taking up sports.” She suddenly quieted, and Ryoma realized that she felt embarrassed for suddenly becoming enthusiastic in front of a visitor because her voice toned down. “What about it, oba-chan?”

Sumire’s tone changed entirely. “I am going to be very honest with you.” Ryoma opened his eyes and he saw Sumire reach out to touch Sakuno’s hand from across the table. He felt the wave of nausea again. He was going to be sick.

What if… everything he was told was true, after all?

“About what…?”

“You… have it. The syndrome.” Sumire paused and Ryoma glanced at Sakuno. She was pale. Very pale. Ryoma wanted to run from that place. He wasn’t supposed to be seeing this. This was between family… and Ryoma just wanted to go away. He didn’t belong.

“The doctor examined you and took some of your genes. There was something wrong, Sakuno. That’s why they put you into that machine, to see your brain.”

“… but sensei said…”

“Yes,” she interrupted Sakuno. “Yes, you are healthy. Very healthy. But this won’t last. The Butterfly Effect works like this. Like a butterfly, when it was first born, it’s at its strongest and flaps its wings around and is beautiful. Then after a few days, it dies. Do you know that, Sakuno? Do you know that butterflies have short lives?”

“It’s affected your brain. Sakuno. Sakuno, do you know how hard this is for me…? They told me what they expected to happen, but they know nothing definite. Do you know… this is frustrating for me? To not know? To look at you and not know what’s going to happen next? Sakuno… Sakuno…”

And right there, in front of the Sakuno, Ryoma, the newly-cooked pancakes…

Ryuzaki Sumire broke down.

Like always, Ryoma couldn’t look.

---

Ryoma sat quietly in the receiving room as he played absentmindedly with his phone. He needed to call someone, to send an email to anyone… just to take his mind off from the thought of Sakuno and Sumire talking in the other room.

He leaned against the couch. Maybe I should just sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to count tennis balls.

Nothing happened.

How did I get into this mess, in the first place? Ryoma thought, clenching his fists into balls. He needed to think. This is all oyaji’s fault!

He recalled what had happened two days ago. His father suddenly called his apartment and without even saying hello, Nanjiroh said, “I’m forwarding another call to you. Don’t do anything wrong.” And he hung up, only to have Ryoma hear a cautious hello at the other line.

It was Ryuzaki Sumire. Her voice had been empty over the phone. Her congratulations sounded all weird. Then she began talking about The Butterfly Syndrome. How you would suddenly be healthy, only to be weak soon after. How your body senses all died one by one… Ryoma was no medical student, but he knew it was serious, surreal it might sound.

Sumire had asked him to come over… to visit Sakuno. Ryoma told her that he could do nothing and all she said was, “It would mean a lot to her, Ryoma. You don’t need to do anything. Nobody can do anything.” And with that, he replied with a small ‘yes’ to seal the deal.

He sighed to himself.

He had no choice now. He opened his eyes to see Sakuno coming out of the nearby room, her eyes all red. He could see her trembling.

This was the person… whom he came back for. He didn’t know why he came back for her or how important he was to her, but he came back and he just couldn’t refuse the responsibility.

“Oi…” Ryoma stood up to greet her. He grabbed the towel draped over his shoulder – he just realized he forgot to take it off. Sakuno looked up at him, and he threw the towel towards her. It hit her on the face and Ryoma silently cursed himself. “Don’t cry.”

Sakuno took off the towel and smiled shakily. “Ryoma-kun?”

Ryoma looked at her.

“Why did you come back?”

Without flinching, he gave his reply. His voice was decisive and firm, and his eyes were unblinking.

“I don’t know,” Ryoma said, staring back at Sakuno. “But I’m staying.”

TBC.

Footnotes:

1 The song that Kevin changed Ryoma’s ring tone to is Vanessa Carlton’s A Thousand Miles.

2 The Butterfly Syndrome is fictional, and if it has any likeness with things both real or fictional, then I assure you, it’s purely coincidental. I am terrible at Biology so… I’ll probably do more research before I can give any scientific jargon as I make up the disease.

3 While it may sound AU, the story will follow the canon plot. Ryoma leaves for America when he was in his freshman year. In the story, he comes back for Sakuno, making him 16 (the story starts right after New Year – Ryoma’s birthday already passed) and Sakuno is 15 (going 16, by January 14). He still plays tennis and all that and the sempai-tachi exist.

Author: So how did you think of it? I wanted to reveal the plot as soon as the first chapter. Feedback is greatly appreciated. It keeps me going. Thanks so much!

Love, Neko11lover